


Beneficiary

by ros3bud009



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Execution of Last Will and Testement, Grief/Mourning, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Levirate Marriage, M/M, Melancholic from beginning to ending, Multi, Spark Sexual Interfacing (Transformers), Transformers Spark Bonds, Vague Sticky Sexual Interfacing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-20
Updated: 2021-02-15
Packaged: 2021-02-26 21:27:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,961
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21875620
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ros3bud009/pseuds/ros3bud009
Summary: “I’ll take care of this, Rewind.”Dominus is legally declared dead. Minimus and Rewind pick up the pieces.
Relationships: Dominus Ambus & Minimus Ambus, Dominus Ambus/Rewind, Minimus Ambus/Rewind
Comments: 28
Kudos: 93





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello and welcome to my "Minimus marries his brother's widow to make sure he's taken care of" AU. Because I'm a monster.
> 
> The timeline I'm going with is a little sketchy but, honestly, I had a hard time pinpointing when various events happened in their lives and how it corresponded to the war, so. I just. Squinted at their wiki pages and did what worked for me.
> 
> (Honestly I kind of did the same with how I characterized Dominus so I hope you like my take on him)
> 
> (Also definitely did that with any of the legal jargon re: execution of wills. I just read the wiki page, found a thing that sounded right, and used it without fully understanding. So if that's not how it actually works, well, maybe that's how it works on Cybertron.)
> 
> Anyway, hope you enjoy this sort of melancholy hurt/comfort.... thing

It wasn’t a surprise when Minimus received the notification that Dominus had been legally declared deceased. A little over half a century after Dominus’s officially reported disappearance – sixty one years and one hundred and fourteen days to be precise - Minimus had finally marked the day on his chronometer and set it to inform him when the deadline arrived.

Minimus checked on it often enough to know it was coming.

(In fact, the closer it had come, the more often he checked it, an uneasy dread gripping him harder and harder each time.)

But stepping back into the Ambus Manor still overwhelmed him more than he had thought it would.

Perhaps it was because it wasn’t all that long to go without seeing Dominus. They had gone longer lengths of time without seeing each other.

(Minimus had gone longer lengths of time politely declining Dominus’s invitations.)

(Dominus had gone longer lengths of time forgetting to even offer invitations.)

And every time Minimus finally returned, he always found it more or less the same as before. Dominus had never been one for excessive décor or displaying artwork, so the walls were always bare. At times pieces of furniture would have been changed out in his absence, usually from wear and tear, though in recent years each piece was replaced with something accessible to much smaller mechs.

(Perhaps the most important change was Rewind’s presence and how it slowly but surely seeped into every inch of the manor, making himself at home and inadvertently leaving it less and less like the home Minimus had once known.)

(Minimus visited less and less.)

Now though, it was almost unrecognizable.

Furniture was wrapped and stacked to one side of the large entrance hall, with yet another piece being brought down the grand stairs by a couple of large, gruff looking mechs to add to the pile. A handful of drones were flitting around, taking measurements and photos of every angle of the room. A spindly copter spoke to another large brute, indicating something on his oversized datapad before shooing him away.

The only constant in the chaos was Rewind.

(It was still discomforting that he had become a constant, standing side-by-side with Dominus in a way that Minimus had never managed. But now, in the madness, that discomfort was familiar enough to come back around to being comforting.)

Rewind was the first to notice Minimus, looking away from where he appeared to have been shouting up at the copter with little success. His visor was overbright, nearly white at the center with clear distress, and he made quick work of stomping across the long expanse of the entrance hall.

“Minimus! What took you so long?!” Rewind demanded, his small frame seeming to whip a frantic whirlwind of frustration around him.

(His small servos wrapping around Minimus’s wrist trembled, grasping Minimus like a lifeline, and it took every fiber of Minimus’s self-control to not yank himself free.)

“I thought my presence would only be needed to document my acknowledgement of Dominus’s last will and testament—”

“They’re dismissing it!”

“What?” Minimus asked. His processor stuttered to a halt before shifting into high gear.

They were packing the furniture to be auctioned off. They were measuring and photographing the manor for interested buyers.

(They were stripping away what little of Dominus lingered.)

“They won’t recognize me as a legitimate beneficiary because of my caste.”

“But there’s precedent. Dominus had me look over his documents to be certain his wishes would be heeded, and he included previous hearings in which the deceased’s wishes were recognized despite the standing of the recipients--”

“Yeah, well, you try telling them that, because none of them will listen to me. They won’t even look at me!” Rewind shouted, his voice loud enough to fill the large, empty space.

Yet not one mech so much as glanced at them.

“They’re taking everything away! All of our things, all of Domi’s work, everything!”

Minimus knew that, despite his brother’s success, all his allies and admirers, Dominus’s work had also earned him his fair share of political enemies. The very sort that Dominus had worked so hard on his final will and testament to outmaneuver; worked so hard to keep their grubby servos off his work, his home, his conjunx.

The sort that would burn his work and strip his home and leave his conjunx on the street.

(The sort that brought Dominus to Minimus seeking help, an event so rare and precious that Minimus had thrown himself into triple and quadruple checking his brother’s work, even though his spark had quietly ached.)

(Dominus had never worked so hard for his sake.)

Minimus felt a kernel of anger spark in his chest.

He reached his free servo over to rest on Rewind’s where they held his wrist.

“I’ll take care of this, Rewind.”

* * *

Minimus had managed to stall the process by disputing the execution of his brother’s will. The movers had been sent away after nearly an hour of argument with the real estate agent, but in no time at all a small group had appeared to discuss the matter. All of them wore tiny sympathetic frowns as they told Minimus they were sorry for his loss.

Rewind had shouted from the second floor that that Dominus wasn’t dead before slamming a door loud enough to echo through the manor. Not a single one of the mechs showed any hint of noticing.

(Minimus didn’t say anything in response. When he had set his chronometer to inform him of this day, he had already accepted his brother’s death.)

Once set up in the meeting room, datapads strewn across the large table that Minimus had had to unwrap for the occasion, it became clear that every bit of their sympathy was a farce.

They were crooks, each and every one of them. They took Dominus’s will and inserted flaws that didn’t exist, forcing themselves into cracks that they had chiseled out themselves.

The court cases used as precedent were dismissed since in trials since Dominus’s disappearance, those same judges had turned against their own precedents, turning their backs on a caste they had once started to defend.

(Reactionary cowards, the lot of them. Able to speak up for the rights of the lower castes when they had been merely theoretical ideals that made them look educated and empathetic, only to abandon those very ideals in the face of actually altering the very societal structures that gave them the right to have a say in the first place. Cowards and traitors to their own moral codes. It was enough to make Minimus’s energon boil.)

They ignored all of Dominus’s hard work, every letter of his perfectly crafted document to protect his conjunx and his name, and focused again and again on the fact that they just couldn’t fulfill Dominus’s wishes because Rewind could not legally own property as a disposable.

(Spitting in the face of everything Dominus had ever worked towards.)

And the worst part of it all was that Minimus couldn’t see this fight through.

Oh, certainly he could have taken them to court. Would have had this happened millennia before, even centuries. Minimus had confidence in his ability to build his case – Dominus had already done so much of the leg work, and if there was anything that Minimus could claim without a doubt, it was his ability to parse the letter of the law. Given time and a fair judge, Minimus could see his brother’s wishes through.

But with half the planet engaged in a civil war that was quickly dragging the other half down with them over the very system that Minimus would be battling in court, there was simply no way. Any judge who had not already taken up a stake in the war and been summarily dismissed by the Senate would readily oust a grieving widow from his home out of some irrational hope it could bring them one step closer to the peaceful subjugation of before.

(And Minimus didn’t have time. He had told Tyrest he had just one last task to complete as Minimus and the clock was ticking.)

Minimus could not have his brother’s will recognized and it was enough to have him grinding his teeth as he seethed.

Dominus deserved better than this.

(Minimus couldn’t live with himself if he disappointed Dominus this one last time.)

“Very well,” Minimus finally conceded four hours later as he tossed his datapad down with a loud clatter that belayed his icy tone. “I see now that my brother was unable to write a workable will in his attempts to have his wishes met.”

“We’re glad you finally see reason—”

“Therefore, as his next and last of kin, I will be assuming the role of executor of his will, as is my right,” Minimus interrupted as he pulled one of his own personal datapads from his subspace. “Furthermore, I will be invoking dependent relative revocation doctrine, seeing as my brother revoked his old will under the mistaken belief that his new will would be valid.” With a few quick swipes, Minimus flipped his datapad to place it on the table screen up and push it towards the now worried looking mechs at the other end. “Seeing as my brother clearly did not desire intestate succession, I’ll be appealing to have his old will reinstated and probated.”

“His old will?” one mech finally managed to ask, staring at the datapad as if it might bite him.

“You may keep that copy if you wish. However, the long and short of it, gentlemen,” Minimus explained, nearly hoping they could see the roiling anger in his face, “is that as Dominus Ambus of Ambustus Minor’s successor as Head of the House of Ambus, _I_ am his sole beneficiary.”

There was dead silence as the mechs watched him walk around the table towards the door, opening it as he stared them down.

“So get out of my house."

* * *

Minimus found Rewind in Dominus’s library surrounded by a sprawling mess of datapads and analog tomes, his servos digging into a third half-opened box to pull yet more to add to the growing sea. He was muttering to himself, swearing and complaining, cursing each and every mech who had touched Dominus’s collection, did they know some of these were antiques, irreplaceable, Dominus would be furious—

(Minimus could still remember in exacting detail when Rewind, newly bonded to Dominus and still trying to befriend Minimus, had gleefully confessed the library was his favorite room.)

Rewind gathered a haphazard pile in his arms and moved to the bookcase with it, placing each datapad on the highest shelf he could reach when stood on the tips of his pedes.

(“Don’t tell Domi I said this, but I find the rest of the house kinda lifeless. You know what I mean? There’s nothing that would tell you it’s his instead of anyone else’s. It doesn’t look like anyone even lives here.”)

Halfway through his work, Rewind stopped, servo frozen in place, before he grumbled, “No, no, they weren’t there, they were—where did he keep these?”

(“But in here, it’s a mess. He’s always got at least a dozen different piles stacked around for different projects, and half a dozen more that he reads for fun, though he won’t admit it. I don’t think I’ve ever even seen the surface of his desk in all the years I’ve known him because it’s buried under abandoned papers. It’s a disaster in here!”)

“I knew where he had these,” Rewind said with growing frustration as he struggled under the shifting weight of the datapads. “Dammit, where--?!”

(“And I love it. It’s just so _Dominus_.”)

The datapads finally slipped free of Rewind’s grasp, clattering to the ground, at least one of which did so with a telltale cracking noise.

“Dammit! Dammit, dammit, dammit!”

Rewind fell to his knees, his face still hidden from Minimus as he gathered the datapads close, servos visibly shaking as he touched them, checked them, stacked them up again.

When he found one with a crack, he went still.

(Minimus hadn’t known what to say to that. He had managed something about how it was a fine collection before changing the subject, trying to ignore the dampening of Rewind’s mood.)

His hand shook so badly it rattled against the shattered glass.

Then Rewind’s whole frame heaved and shuddered, his ventilations quickening and stuttering.

Minimus wasn’t quite sure when or how, but he found himself crouching next to Rewind, gently grabbing his wrist to pull his servo away from the broken screen. Rewind’s helm snapped up to look at him, and Minimus felt his spark twist tightly in his chest at how pale Rewind’s visor was and how Rewind failed to choke back a quiet sob.

“It’s just a screen,” Minimus said quietly. “It’s not the first time one of Dominus’s datapads needed its screen replaced.”

It took a moment, but with a hiccupping in-vent, Rewind nodded.

“You’re right. We can – I can get it fixed.” Rewind’s frame settled more heavily back on his heels until his legs folded under him and he cleared his vocalizer of static, but he didn’t pull his wrist from Minimus’s grasp and Minimus wasn’t sure how best to release Rewind without bringing attention to their physical contact.

And Rewind was still shaking.

“Are those vultures gone?”

“I’ve sent them away, yes.”

“And the will?”

“I had to let it drop. It would take years to dispute in court, and I can’t promise I would be able to win the case. I do have a plan to see that my brother’s intensions are still met, but it will be more….” Minimus frowned when he realized he was squeezing the thin plating of Rewind’s wrist, as if it would do anything to still the shaking.

Minimus suspected they would be of size if he weren’t wearing his armor.

“It will be more complicated. But I will see to it that you’re taken care of, Rewind.”

Rewind made an oddly organic noise at that, something that sounded dismissive.

“I’m not worried about me.”

“Dominus was.”

“If he’s so damn worried, then he shouldn’t have left.”

And just like that, their short conversation dropped. The harsher trembling started again and Rewind looked away as he pulled his servo from Minimus’s hold. Minimus let him.

Now that both his servos were free, Minimus picked up where Rewind had left off. He gathered the pile that Rewind had dropped, sans the broken one, and placed them one by one on the shelf immediately in front of him, putting them in order.

“I don’t remember where he put that set.”

Minimus didn’t pause as he put the last two datapads at the end. All that was missing was the broken one which he slipped into his subspace for the time being.

“Dominus never kept to one organization system for long, so I doubt it had any particular place,” Minimus explained as he shifted onto his knees so he could start to reach the larger, wide-spread pile. It would take a while to separate out all the sets and series and authors, never mind the towering stack of still unopened boxes with yet more inside, but something in Minimus’s spark longed for the work. “I can’t begin to tell you how many times I helped him reorganize only for it to have changed completely the next time I saw it. Assuming it had a system at all, of course, which was never a guarantee.”

“Huh.” Rewind’s ventilations had started to slow again and the rattling of his armor had quieted. “I guess you’re right. I hadn’t really noticed, but I _did_ always have to ask him where anything I wanted was.”

Minimus hummed in agreement before silently returning to his task. Seconds turned into minutes. Datapads and tomes were piled with their kin and then placed on the shelves, and at times later moved to different shelves as Minimus mulled over how he wanted to organize them all. Personal datapads were put on the desk to be dealt with later. Eventually Minimus would want to make copies for himself and then place the originals in Dominus’s personal vault for safekeeping.

During the process, Rewind had rolled over to sit with his back to a small section of the shelves, knees pulled up to rest his helm on, arms wrapped around them to keep them in place. His ventilations would quicken and slow, his shaking would worsen and then lessen, the occasional quiet keen escaping at the worst of his cycles.

It was a while before finally Rewind spoke again.

“I’m not _mad_ at him.”

Minimus only paused in his work for a moment before continuing as he replied.

“You think he’s still alive, don’t you?”

“Of course I do, because he _is_.”

“Then you have every right to be mad.”

For the first time in a while, Rewind looked up from the safety of his arms, visor flashing with surprise.

“What?”

“Well,” Minimus began, looking at the pad in his servo instead of at Rewind, “if Dominus is still alive, it’s far more likely he left of his own volition than not considering there was no evidence left behind. Leaving his conjunx endura without warning or explanation for such a long period of time is a truly heinous act fully deserving of anger.”

Rewind didn’t reply right away, but when Minimus chanced a glance, Rewind had tilted his helm to rest the side of it on his folded arms, allowing his visor to track Minimus as he worked.

“Is that why you’re not mad?”

That finally stopped Minimus fully. The arm he had lifted stalled and, slowly was pulled back to his chest.

“I’m furious, Rewind.”

“At the vultures, sure. The circumstances. But not at Dominus.”

The dread was creeping back into his spark, swirling and squeezing, as if warning Minimus of the trap he was well aware was coming.

“My feelings towards my brother are complicated.”

“I figured that much out a long time ago. But you _do_ think he’s dead.”

It was accusatory, so obviously a trap, but Minimus couldn’t seem to stop himself from stepping into it as he met Rewind’s visor and admitted simply, “Yes.”

The silence that followed was palpable as Rewind’s visor burned with renewed rage.

“Why?” Rewind growled as he unfurled and started to push to his pedes, plating flared. “You can’t possibly know that so why assume the worst?”

“We were spark brothers,” Minimus started to explain, taking one step back when Rewind started towards him, servos fisted, “we had a connection—”

“And I don’t?!”

“Yes, but it’s different. If he were still alive, I’d know. I’d feel—”

“Shut up!!”

Minimus saw the swing coming, catching Rewind’s fist with his palm and holding it before doing the same for the other as it came flying out in retaliation.

“Rewind, _stop—_ ”

“There are plenty of reasons why we might not be able to feel him!” Rewind cried desperately as his frame whipped back and forth, trying to pull free, to kick, to headbutt, _anything_. “He could be too far away, or purposely muting the bond, or—or he could have broken it, or—!”

“He’s dead, Rewind! Dominus is _dead_!”

Minimus hadn’t meant to yell. Hadn’t meant to squeeze Rewind’s wrists. Hadn’t meant to start trembling.

(Hadn’t meant to _feel_ like this.)

It was unbearably quiet after that, with only the sound of their labored ventilation cycles to fill the space.

When Rewind yanked his servos from Minimus’s, he let them go.

“Frag you, Minimus.”

And just like that, Rewind was gone, stalking out of the library without so much as a second glance at Minimus.

Yet his anger seemed to linger, swirling with the dread in Minimus’s spark, hot and painful and too tight.

(Minimus had never actually said it out loud before. He almost wished it had been harder to say.)

After several long moments, Minimus returned to organizing the library, ignoring how his servos trembled.


	2. Chapter 2

“You know we have recharge berths, right? They’re still wrapped up downstairs, but it’s not that hard to set them up again.”

Minimus’s optics onlined in a rush as his processor stuttered. He couldn’t remember falling into recharge, yet here he was slumped against the wall of the library, his frame slowly whirling to wakefulness, hours having passed since he last checked his chrono.

And he had been in the library for hours before that. Minimus couldn’t rightly say how long it had been since their argument.

And now Rewind was stood above him with a cube of energon in each servo.

When Minimus didn’t reply right away – unable to think of a dignified way of explaining himself – Rewind ex-vented with exasperation before plopping himself down to sit against the wall next to Minimus.

“Here,” he said as he thrust one of the cubes towards Minimus. Again, when Minimus was unsure what to say, Rewind beat him to the punch, explaining, “It’s a peace offering.”

Minimus accepted it, careful to make sure he didn’t accidentally touch Rewind’s digits.

“Thank you. But you don’t need to apologize.”

“Good, because I’m not.” There was an edge to Rewind’s voice as he said it, though the hours apart had proven enough to cool his ire to a low simmer. “But you _are_ my brother-in-law, and I _do_ need your help, so I just have to accept that you’re wrong and move on. Thus, peace offering.”

Minimus only hummed in acknowledgement and held the cube between his servos. Rewind sipped at his slowly, pulling his legs in towards his chest to rest his servos on between sips.

“And thanks for putting the library back together.”

“Gratitude isn’t necessary. I was…” Minimus trailed off, unsure how to express the peace found focusing his entire consciousness on organization.

(The peace found in hiding in organization.)

“I was glad to do it,” he settled on.

“Well, I’m glad you did it, because I don’t think I would have been able to.” Rewind placed his still half-full cube on the ground beside him so he could fold his arms over his knees again, visor fixed on the walls of bookshelves. “No matter how badly I wanted to.”

Minimus considered the energon in his servos. Given how long it had been since he had last refueled, he really needed to drink it. At least a little.

“You once told me the library was your favorite room in the manor.”

“I'm surprised you remember that. Didn't really seem like you cared what I said back then.”

Minimus winced, but it was a fair jab. After a little more fiddling with the untouched energon, Minimus placed his on the floor too, unable to consider choking it down.

“The library was my favorite room as well.”

Minimus could see out of his periphery that Rewind was looking at him now, visor bright with surprise. Instead of meeting his gaze however, he kept his optics focused on the bookshelves across the room.

“Dominus and I would get in arguments about what a mess he would make of it back when it was mine as well as his. Once I told him I wouldn’t use it anymore if he continued to make a mockery of the organizational system. It was over three centuries before I walked in again and it was a disaster. It took days to fix it, and when I finished, all he said was it was ‘nice.’ But I wasn’t angry with him. Not really. If anything, I was happy to share the space with him again. I’d missed it terribly.”

Minimus’s servos twisted together tightly enough to hurt.

(He missed Dominus terribly.)

And then there was Rewind’s small servo again. It was just a light weight though. No grasping or squeezing. Just a weight and heat on Minimus’s servos.

“So you do love him.”

“Of course. He was my spark brother.” It took everything in Minimus's power to not reach toward his chest.

(Their bond had always been a quiet one. Minimus had thought it a silent one when he wasn’t paying attention to it until his brother’s disappearance left it deathly so.)

Rewind squeezed gently and the urge lessened.

“Guess that makes two of us at least.”

It was quiet then as Minimus dared to let his gaze shift from the bookshelves to Rewind's servo on his.

“I'm sorry.”

“For?”

“For my distance all these years.”

Rewind hummed and the plating of his digits shifted against Minimus’s when he shrugged.

“It's alright. It wasn't really about me anyway, was it?”

“No,” Minimus admitted. When he didn't elaborate, Rewind huffed softly, sounding almost amused.

“Well, if we’re making confessions now, I love Dominus, but never have I met a more frustratingly oblivious mech in my entire life.” When Minimus looked at him in surprise, he’d swear that Rewind’s visor glittered with a warmth that was at odds with his words. “What? It's true and we both know it. I once gave him the silent treatment for a month straight after an argument we had, and he didn't even notice until I snapped and screamed about it in his face.” Rewind glanced down at their servos, but Minimus didn't know if he was really actually seeing them. “It was one of the few times I cried in front of him. After that, when he was busy with work – which was always – he would set an alarm for every couple of days for an emotional check in.” Rewind laughed then, soft, warm, sad. “It sounds so clinical when I say it out loud, but he just… he doesn't always notice things like that without having it pointed out.”

Minimus nodded without thinking.

“He doesn't notice the struggle of others unless it's brought to his attention.”

“Don’t I fragging know it.”

The humor slipped away then, quickly and surely.

“I guess that's why I think he could still be alive. You’re right that it would be cruel of him, but I… I genuinely think he could have gone off to do something without warning us.” Rewind grasped at Minimus’s servo unthinkingly, catching some of his digits tight in his grip. “While he doesn't have a malicious strut in his frame, he has hurt me before. Hurt you. Going off on some well-intentioned mission without realizing how badly it would hurt us…”

There was a spark of charge then. That lingering anger of before, there and gone again.

“I'd rather he be a live inconsiderate bastard then a dead one.”

And just like that, Minimus understood.

Minimus had never known how to ask for what he wanted from Dominus, and Dominus had never known how to decipher Minimus. When their bond had been stronger, they could rely on it to make up for that lack of communication, but when it had cooled they were at a loss.

But Rewind could ask. And Rewind could decipher.

A better functioning mech than either of them, held back by nothing more than the frame he was forged in.

Unforgivable that he had been held back at all.

“I can't stay,” Minimus blurted, wincing when Rewind looked at him, helm tilted with confusion. “To keep Dominus’s estate and finances, I had to reinstate his previous will and claim them for myself. Were I able to stay on Cybertron, I could simply let you remain here, transfer his credits to you, and be done with the whole matter. Nothing would have to change and you would have that which you’re due.”

“But you're leaving,” Rewind said.

(Minimus could not recall the last time someone had sounded so unhappy to know he was leaving.)

“I am.”

Rewind exvented before nodding.

“Right. Thus the whole complicated business you mentioned before.”

“Yes.” Minimus gathered his scattered thoughts and forcibly yanked his professionalism about him again, as if it could protect him from the sentimentality of before. “One option is that I can liquidate Dominus’s assets after we go through and pick out what we each wish to keep. I would send the credits to you as the sole benefactor. It would not hold the same sentimental value, and this house would be no more, but you would be the financially secure.”

“That's nice and all, but I hate it.”

“I thought you might. Which is why I have another option to offer.”

No amount of professionalism could slow the rapid pulsing of Minimus’s spark.

“I can take you as my conjunx.”

The silence after was so deeply uncomfortable that Minimus wished he hadn’t put his energon away, just to have something to do with his servos, _anything_ that wasn’t feeling trapped under the weight of Rewind’s. Minimus didn’t dare meet Rewind’s gaze.

“I assure you my intensions aren’t to romance you, nor to take my brother’s place in your life, but rather to make use of the legal benefits of such a relationship to share custody of his assets and--”

“Yeah, no, I—I got that, Minimus.”

Rewind hadn’t removed his servo, but Minimus didn’t dare take that as a sign; dare assume Rewind hadn’t merely forgotten it in the wake of Minimus’s offer.

“You would be able to continue as you have. You would have complete ownership of this house and everything held within it in my absence as well as access to a joint account into which I would put Dominus’s wealth. Should you be correct and Dominus ever return, I would of course annul our bond.”

Minimus would swear Rewind’s servo felt scalding hot and far too heavy where it lay on his own, and he was thankful he had not drunk any of his energon, unsure he would have been able to keep it down given how sick he felt with anxiousness.

Finally, Rewind’s servo lifted away.

“Minimus, I can’t--” Rewind’s vocalizer stumbled over static, forcing him to clear it before starting again. There was something about hearing the emotion in Rewind’s voice that bolstered Minimus enough to lift and turn his helm and actually look at Rewind again.

Rewind’s visor blinked fitfully at him when their gazes locked.

“I can’t ask you to do that.”

“You’re not. I’m offering of my own volition.”

Rewind shook his head, dropping one knee so he could turn more fully towards Minimus. “They won’t take you at your word. They wouldn’t even believe Dominus when he first tried to get our bond officially recognized, and he had no reason to lie.”

“Which is why I would go directly to a medic who is certified to scan my spark for confirmation of the bond before proceeding with filing the necessary forms.”

“There’s no medic that the government has certified that would fake that for you.”

“I don’t intend for there to be anything to falsify.”

There was a second of silence before, with a jolt and a blinding flare of his visor, Rewind sat up impossibly straight and blurted, “What?!”

Minimus cleared his vocalizer, looking down at the floor between them when he was no longer able to hold Rewind’s incredulous gaze.

“Given the scrutiny this transfer of assets will be under, I’m well aware that any farce would be found out quickly and punished harshly. Nothing less than a true spark bond will work.”

“You can’t be serious.”

“I’m not in the habit of being anything but serious.”

“Then you don’t know what you’re offering me.”

“I would argue I do and have said as such. I’m offering to take you as my conjunx.”

“That’s your spark, Minimus!” Somehow, Rewind managed to move with such speed that before Minimus realized what was happening, two small, warm, unyielding servos bracketed his face, forcing it up as Rewind leaned in. There was no way to look away from Rewind as he reiterated sternly, “What you’re offering is your _spark_!”

(That very spark thundered in Minimus’s chest with a myriad of emotions that proved difficult to pick apart and label.)

Minimus swallowed around the tightness in his intake before replying quietly, “I know.”

(Nervousness, certainly. Trepidation. Embarrassment.)

“ _No_ , you _don’t_. This is a _bond_. Between our _sparks_.”

“I’m aware of how a spark bond functions. I lived with one for the entirety of my functioning until recently if you’ll recall.”

(Bitterness.)

“But you didn’t reignite that bond with Dominus after being forged. You never merged—”

(A snap of outrage.)

“That’s _none_ of your _business_.”

“It is if you really think you’re ok bonding your spark to mine for ‘custody of assets!’”

“This isn’t about assets—”

“Then why? Why not just tell me ‘tough slag’ and send me out the door with more credits than I’d ever know what to do with? Why the _frag_ would you offer me your _spark_ so I can sit pretty waiting for Dominus to come back?!”

(Fear.)

Minimus lifted his servos, but when they encircled Rewind’s wrists, he couldn’t force himself to pull them away. Instead he held fast to them like a mech dying.

“Because Dominus loved you!” Minimus shouted before he could choke it and the emotion that escaped with it back. Finally, _finally_ , Rewind stared back without immediately arguing with him, and Minimus could only lament as the rest spilled from his lips into the silence. “He never cared about the Ambus house beyond what it could do for his work. This house, this wealth, this _library_ – they were all means to ends. He would never have cared what I chose to do with it all had you not entered his life. But you did. And now what he leaves behind _matters_.”

(Jealousy.)

“I’m offering you this because I loved my brother, and if there was anything that my brother truly loved, it was _you_.”

(Loneliness.)

“He wanted you to be taken care of and I can’t fail him this time. I _won’t_.”

(Spark-rending grief.)

It was only when Rewind’s thumbs brushed across his cheeks that Minimus realized they were wet. His fans whirred and hiccupped and his frame shook so hard it rattled.

He was crying.

Minimus released Rewind’s wrist as if burned by them, trying to get his servos to his own face to hide it.

“I—I’m sorry, I—”

But Rewind didn’t move his own servos from Minimus’s helm. In fact, he used them to pull Minimus closer, bumping their forehelms together and leaving no room for Minimus to hide.

“You know he loves you too, don’t you?” Rewind asked softly. When Minimus didn’t reply, Rewind continued, “He _loves_ you, Minimus.”

And with that the dam broke and Minimus shook as a quiet keen escaped.

(Minimus could not recall the last time he had been held. Long enough ago that if he tried to pull up any such memories, it took enough time that for a moment he would doubt if it had ever happened at all.)

(It was easy enough to blame that fact for how easily he let Rewind pull his face down into the crook of his neck and hold him as he wept.)

* * *

“Fine. I’ll be your conjunx. But only because then you’ll know you got Dominus what he wanted for me.”

“You don’t have to. I can liquidate—”

“Frag that. Besides, _I_ need to make sure you really understand that Dominus loves you. On the off chance that he really is… is gone, then that leaves me to be the one to make this right for him.”

“Then you aren’t only doing it for me.”

“Don’t get smart with me. We’re both too emotionally exhausted for another argument.”

“A fair point.”

“Besides. Maybe Domi didn’t care about the library, but we do. So. This way we can preserve it at least until the war finally makes it here.”

“That… would be nice.”

“Yeah. So drink up. Once you’re fueled, we can go unwrap one of the berths and make it official.”

“A berth is hardly necessary for a spark merge.”

“You really _haven’t_ done this before. Oh stop, don’t look at me like that. I’m teasing. And honestly, If I’m going to bed my brother-in-law, I’m going to do it right.”

“The only thing we need to do right is create the bond.”

“I guess. But you deserve to enjoy the experience of your first spark merge.”

“I don’t think that’s necessary.”

“Well I do. I owe it to Dominus to rock his brother’s fragging world.”

“That’s certainly not true, and I suspect just more teasing.”

“Definitely some teasing. But not completely. Whatever the reason we’re doing it, it’s still a conjunx bonding. That deserves to be done right.”

“I suppose I’ll have to take your word on it given this is your realm of expertise.”

“Is… is that teasing, or actually serious?”

“I’m honestly not sure.”

“Then we’ll chalk it up to a little of column A and a little of column B. Now seriously, drink up. We have a mistake to make.”

“Is that—”

“Better you don’t ask.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now, listen. I know it's been a year and nearly 3 months
> 
> But to be fair, a year of that was actual hell on earth, so.
> 
> The fact that I'm finally finishing one of my published WIPs is a miracle.
> 
> Anyway, I hope you enjoy the conclusion! This is the "last chapter" but I'm also posting the epilogue so. This is it. This is all of Beneficiary.
> 
> Thank you all for going on this absolutely buckwild adventure with me that nobody asked for.

“Is this really necessary? I don’t see why we can’t be at least sitting, if not standing—”

“Not for your first time. You _will_ go weak in the knees and fall away mid-merge, and trust me, that’s _really_ uncomfortable,” Rewind insisted as he pushed Minimus back down onto the berth. This time Minimus stayed, though he frowned up at Rewind from where he was laid out on his back.

“I could lock my knees.”

“That’s what they all say.”

Without warning or an ounce of shame, Rewind slung a leg over Minimus’s middle, straddling him and resting his servos on Minimus’s chest, right above his spark.

Said spark throbbed, and to Minimus’s disbelief and horror, it felt like longing.

(Was his spark truly so desperate to be affixed with another? That the loss of his already tattered bond with his brother left it so bereft as to latch onto any spark that offered itself? Was it the curse of being a spark twin to have a spark unwilling to spin alone?)

(Minimus dared not consider what that meant about himself as a mech.)

Minimus could only assume some fraction of his spiraling anxiety showed as Rewind stopped there. The only movement was one of his thumbs running idly up and down the seam of his chest.

“While spark merging is obviously pretty revealing, I’m not gonna learn all your secrets or anything,” Rewind started to explain. “Even Dominus still has his secrets, and I couldn’t tell you how many times we’ve done this.”

“Please don’t remind me,” Minimus asked before realizing what he was saying. It was ridiculous. Of _course_ his brother and Rewind had merged regularly. They had been conjunx endura.

And regardless of what was commonly associated with merging, it wasn’t specifically a romantic act, or always related with interfacing. He knew that well, even if he and Dominus never chose to reignite their bond with merging.

(It seemed too embarrassing and intimate an act to ask for, and Dominus had never brought it up either.)

Yet it was easy now to imagine his brother and Rewind intertwined, and—

Rewind laughed, his visor glowing as Minimus felt his face heat with embarrassment and something he dared not name.

“Oh, Minimus, there’s gonna be _no_ skirting around the Dominus issue with this. But I can do my best to keep the more _lurid_ details to myself,” Rewind offered. Minimus barely managed to suppress a shiver when Rewind’s thumb stroked down his seam as he said ‘lurid’ like that. “And you’ll have some level of control over what you share too. Not as much as I will since I have more experience in that space, but if you really don’t want to share something that comes up, you won’t. And if I share something you don’t want to experience, I’ll feel that and will pull it back. Otherwise, most of what we’ll feel will just be what we both bring to the metaphorical table. It will get messier the closer we get to the igniting of the bond, but that’s spark merging for you. It’s pretty messy. But it’s good.”

Minimus simply nodded, unsure if he could trust his voice.

Primus. He was really doing this.

It was mad and wildly inappropriate, and yet.

Shame mingled with heat and loneliness, and his chest plating shifted ever so slightly.

And, of course, Rewind noticed. His visor glowed warmer and his whole servo now gently caressed down the line of his chestplates. But, surprisingly, he didn’t say anything about it, and for that Minimus was grateful.

“Are you still sure about this?”

“I knew what I offered.”

“Arguable, but even so, that doesn’t mean you can’t change your mind. You’re offering a lot.”

Minimus swallowed hard around where it felt as if his spark had jumped into his intake, desperate to escape; desperate and lonely.

“Nevertheless, I’m still sure.”

“Alright.”

And, without another word, Rewind’s chest parted.

It was blue. A soft, pale, comforting blue. A silly observation, since Minimus knew it was his spark that was the exception here. The overwhelming majority of mechs had sparks like Rewind’s. The color was in no way special or unique.

But Minimus had only ever known his own. And the only other spark he had ever spent a passing thought on was Dominus’s, and he had known the exact shade and hue hidden beneath his brother’s breast.

The blue of Rewind’s spark was novel.

(It was beautiful.)

“Like what you see, dearest brother-in-law?” Rewind teased, ripping Minimus from his reverie.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—”

“It’s fine. Not every day you see a spark. Speaking of, you wanna open up and join the party?”

Minimus double and triple checked that his armor and true form would open in sync before sending the command. Surely Rewind would already have some idea of the truth he and his brother hid, but no need to bring it to attention. Not when already contending with a greater level of intimacy than Minimus had ever truly known.

And if he kept his focus on the ceiling as he felt his chest transform away to reveal the green glow of his spark, well. He couldn’t be blamed for feeling discomforted by the vulnerability.

But Rewind didn’t say anything. Seconds ticked by. Minimus opened his mouth to ask what was wrong, but the words caught in his vocalizer, afraid to be the one to break the silence.

He did though when a digit brushed the surface of his spark. Minimus’s frame seized from the sudden sparkling brilliance of the touch, an embarrassing noise bursting from him as he reached down and caught Rewind by the wrist, yanking up just enough to relieve himself of the sensation.

Rewind looked nearly as surprised by it all as Minimus felt when they locked gazes.

“Sorry.”

“No, it’s… it’s fine” Minimus had to suppress a small shiver as echoes of Rewind’s touch lingered in his spark. “I just wasn’t prepared.”

“Yeah, I should have warned you. I just…” Rewind chuckled then, though it was quiet and a little too sad to really be considered a happy sound. “I feel dumb saying it because of _course_ your spark looks like his. Fragging point one percenter spark brothers. But I just wasn’t expecting it.”

Rewind’s spark shifted and pulsed noticeably then. Minimus wondered if his mirrored it in sympathy.

“If it’s any consolation, I had been surprised by yours as well. I’ve only known sparks like…” And then it was his turn to ex-vent with something both like and unlike humor. “Well. It would seem you’re right. There’s no way for us to not keep bringing up Dominus.”

“Well, he did bring us together, didn’t he?”

Minimus only hummed his assent as his processor hiccupped over the word ‘together’.

And, slowly, he released Rewind’s wrist, his own servo now left hanging purposeless. Minimus did not meet Rewind’s gaze.

“Shall we, then?”

It was only a second or two before his servo was caught up again by Rewind’s, palm to palm as it was moved and then pressed down against the berth, Rewind curled over his chest, knees shifting against his sides and hips lifting and settling until their sparks were parallel. There was so little distance between them that Minimus swore he felt the heat radiating from Rewind’s spark against his own.

(Almost as warm as Rewind’s servo felt against his own.)

Rewind had to tilt his helm back to look up at Minimus, visor overbright.

“I bid you, Minimus Ambus, stand in the glow of my spark that you may feel the heat of my words and know them to be true,” Rewind murmured, without humor or anger or sorrow, but with a squeeze of his servo. “I invite you to receive my light and in so doing become my conjunx endura – from now until forever.”

A vow.

Minimus’s spark throbbed, and Rewind must have felt it given how his small frame shivered against him.

(Had Rewind been the inviter when he and Dominus bonded? Or had he been invited by Dominus, meaning these words were new on his tongue, offered solely to Minimus?)

“I accept your invitation, Rewind, and in so doing will become your conjunx endura – from now until forever.”

He squeezed Rewind’s servo in turn.

Rewind closed that last small space between their sparks.

And just like that, from one second to the next, Minimus was no longer alone.

It was that sparkling brilliance of before but multiplied to such heights that Minimus could have never so much as estimated the degree, but for all that it satiated the need to escape his isolation – for all that it filled the glaring hole left in his spark --

Panic grasped him in frame and processor. He was full up, too full, full to overflowing because there wasn’t room for anyone other than himself, he couldn’t withstand the pressure of company—

(He couldn’t remember how to not be alone—)

_Easy, easy. It’s alright._

It took an embarrassingly long time to realize it wasn’t his own thought.

_It’s too much._

_I know. It’s a lot. Frag, I really haven’t felt a bond in a long time._

To say Minimus heard the sad laugh would have been inaccurate. Rather, he felt it bubbling up against his spark, vibrating in his frame as if it were its own.

_I haven’t felt it this strongly since I was newly forged,_ Minimus didn’t mean to admit. But without his prideful processor to stand guard, his weak spark was careless.

Rewind didn’t reply. Not with explicit words. But pity washed over Minimus before it was gone again.

_So we’re both rusty. That’s ok. We have all the time we need to go as slow as we want. But I can also stop it now._

_You can?_

_Yes. Only our outermost layers have merged so it wouldn’t be difficult._

And yet, what was meant as reassurance – what _felt_ like genuine reassurance – only had his spark throb harder with fear.

**_No_ ** _._

Minimus managed to keep the rest of the formed words at bay, but was helpless as overwhelming loneliness spilled out of him, pressed up against where something – someone – that wasn’t him started.

(It was so much easier to accept how comfortable he had become in his isolation when no one could see where he buried the pain it bore.)

_Oh_.

And then something in his spark, or against his spark – something buckled and broke, and then Minimus’s loneliness wasn’t his own. Or it was. It was and it wasn’t all at once, it—

It was shared between them.

So much more of himself was shared, and Minimus would have moaned in shared pain and pleasure if he could have as the fullness increased in painful ecstasy.

Maybe he did, out beyond his spark. It was hard to really comprehend the beyond at that moment.

_Sorry_ , poured out of Rewind, deeper inside now, deep enough that Minimus could feel where the word ebbed and flowed with the sentiments attached to it; Rewind’s breathless shock and the prickling of his own fear at his loss of control. _I didn’t mean to deepen it. I hadn’t – I hadn’t considered the natural draw of having the same sorts of feelings, even if they aren’t romantic. I can still stop it, hold on—_

_You’re lonely too._

_Of course I’m lonely!_

They were like a venn diagram. Two wholes that they had thought separate, had _been_ separate, that upon meeting overlapped, sets becoming subsets of feelings they had shared all along. And with every datum point they shared, they lost more terrain to that shared subset, lost more of their original shape – _shared_ more of their original shape—

_Are you seriously thinking about **diagrams** right now?!_

Minimus felt Rewind’s panic, but the discomfort of it was familiar enough to come back around to being comforting.

_God, you’re real fragged up, you know that, Minimus?_

_Intimately._

A bright burst of hysteric giggles bubbled up in their shared space. Minimus simply let it wash over him, pulling him into that incredulity that little bit more as each wave flowed away before the next wave hit.

And perhaps his calm acceptance of their sad state of affairs was trickling into Rewind in return as his spark’s rapid pulsing slowed to something less frenetic.

_Is it bad that I’m kind of glad? I thought—frag, I feel like scrap saying it but—_

_You thought I was coping healthily?_

_Can you imagine? Actually being ok?_

And maybe it shouldn’t have been funny. But Minimus’s own amusement intertwined with Rewind’s.

The overfull ache was gone now. Instead, it simply felt warm. Comfortable. Encompassing in the way an oil bath was.

It was oddly wonderful to feel lonely together.

_Can I be honest?_

_We’re at least three layers deep into this spark merge and clearly I lied about having any control over this slagshow. Obviously you can be._

_I don’t think I’ve ever been ok. If I was, I’ve long forgotten what it’s like._

The buckling sensation of before came, but it was slower, and instead of fighting it, Minimus opened to it before the buckling turned to breaking. As if in reward, there was no pain; the pressure was slower, smoother, a comforting burst of catharsis.

_I think I finally was. With Dominus. But now…_

_But now._

(It was odd how Minimus could not consciously connect to the world beyond their merge, but he felt in exacting detail the way Rewind’s digits intertwined with his own.)

(And once he knew that, he was also aware of how his own servo felt under Rewind’s.)

_He loves you._

Another press against his spark, and again Minimus allowed it, but the rush of feelings was neither his nor Rewind’s.

And Minimus’s spark lurched with the recognition.

_Your brother loves you, Minimus._

Rejection was immediate as Minimus tried in vain to pull away.

_He’s dead._

Where he expected Rewind to deny it – like he had at every turn; had shouted as he tried to physically fight Minimus over it; had brokenly murmured as he sobbed – he didn’t.

Instead, Rewind shuddered, in frame and spark.

_Maybe. But that only changes the tense._

Yet another press. Yet another rejection.

_It changes far more than that._

Regret, far older than Dominus’s death but just that much more helpless for it, swamped Minimus.

But still, Rewind pressed.

This time, however, it was not the love that Minimus could reject.

Instead came a nearly instantaneous snap of sets becoming subsets, too fast for Minimus to reject as it so perfectly – too perfectly, without pain or pleasure – mirrored his own helpless regret.

(A matching pair.)

_You two really are alike._

Minimus shuddered, too stunned to defend himself as he felt Dominus again. He could only wonder at how Rewind must have interpreted the fact that Minimus could not accept his brother’s love, but to know his regret – their regret – he felt—

He felt connected with his brother in a way he had not in a long, long time.

_Thank you._

_No problem. I do have other, nicer sentiments if you want them now._

_No. There’s no need. This… this is more than enough._

There was something like comfort found in the knowing. But with it came the all too familiar creeping chill of grief.

(What use was knowing when it was a problem that could no longer be solved?)

And then Rewind shook against him, where they met and where they were merged, thundering against and inside Minimus.

Awful, violent rejection.

_Rewind—_

_How do you do it?_

_Do what?_

The shaking worsened and Minimus could feel his servo, out in the beyond, creak under Rewind’s grip.

(Could feel his servo used as a lifeline, as if Rewind might be lost if he didn’t keep hold of it.)

_How do you just accept it?!_

Perhaps, if they had been having a normal conversation as wholly separate mechs, Minimus might have flinched from Rewind’s intensity. Isn’t that what he had done since entering the manor?

But now he felt the desperation lapping at him and only felt pity.

_It’s simply a matter of fact. Dominus is not here._ The portion of his spark that had once been Dominus ached with absence. _What else can I do with a fact but accept it?_

Rewind was tumultuous as he clung to where they were _them_ and not him, grasping and kneading, as if trying to bury himself in Minimus. A sick longing seeped from him.

_I can’t._

(Somewhere, Minimus tried to return Rewind’s vice grip.)

_What happens if you do?_

Rewind pushed and Minimus accepted.

At first there was the slide-lock of shared emotion he had learned to recognize; sets becoming subsets; knowing the loneliness of yet another a mech looking at you and not seeing you at all.

But Minimus’s memories of party after party, networking event after networking event, job interview after job interview after job interview, each and every mech he met looking at him and seeing Dominus—

They were drowned out by the optics of mechs who didn’t see a mech at all.

Optics that saw a tool, an object with limited uses that could be just as easily disposed of as he had been to purchase.

Optics that left him fully disconnected from anyone around him; deeply, desperately, disjointedly alone.

And one pair – one pair Minimus knew, even in the depths of being subsumed by Rewind – that slowly, _achingly_ slowly cleared until finally they saw him.

And now they were _gone_ , and he was _alone_ , never to be seen again as he was surrounded by mechs who yet again refused to see anything but an object as they took everything he had built away—

And then there were optics that saw him again.

Identical, but not Dominus’s.

(Not a matching pair but two mechs forcibly intertwined by fate.)

And against his every instinct, Minimus opened himself further in offering.

_We don’t have to be alone anymore._

And for one moment, what was left of Rewind – what was not yet _them_ – stilled.

(They saw each other.)

_Please,_ rippled through Minimus, and then another, _Please_ , but louder now, larger, denser, until each ripple of _Please_ lapped against and inside Minimus with greater and greater desperation with every repetition, _pleasepleasepleaseplEASEPLEASE—_

And they weren’t alone.

* * *

Minimus resurfaced with a frame-rattling in-take of air. He heard Rewind do the same.

“Primus below.”

“Yeah,” Rewind ex-vented shakily. His servo didn’t loosen around Minimus’s, and truthfully Minimus was grateful for it. And for Rewind’s other servo that gripped his shoulder pauldron. And for Minimus’s own free servo that had found its way to Rewind’s back, holding him close to his chest, though now their sparks were locked away again.

Their servos and where they grasped at each other were the only things that felt truly like Minimus’s. The rest of his frame – his armor – felt alien.

Damn, but it was unbelievably difficult to settle back into his own frame again.

At least he wasn’t alone in that sentiment.

“I can feel you.”

Rewind simply hummed in reply, but Minimus could feel recognition where he had given himself away and received a part of Rewind in exchange.

The headiness of being able to send a pulse of his awe back and feel Rewind shiver against him was overwhelming.

So much so that Minimus laughed. It was small and quiet and rough, but even he could hear the relief in it.

Rewind pushed back against Minimus’s hold just enough to tip his helm back and look at him, visor bright.

“Did you just laugh?”

Minimus might have tried to hide the smile tugging at his lips if he didn’t know Rewind would feel it in their bond anyway, and that fact only curled his lips more.

“Despite popular opinion, I am capable of it.”

Rewind’s visor flickered and managed to grow even brighter. Minimus would swear the red light of his camera blinked on for a moment, perhaps capturing the moment on instinct.

“Minimus.”

“Yes?”

“I want to make love to you.”

Minimus’s spark and array throbbed in unison.

“Do you think we should?”

“Honestly? No. No, we absolutely shouldn’t. We’ve already made things too messy.” Rewind was right, of course. Minimus knew that before he had even asked. He had already sparkbonded with his brother’s widow, surely Minimus couldn’t cross yet another line—

Rewind pinned Minimus’s servo to the bed more firmly so it could bear his weight, leaving his other servo to trace a burning path from his shoulder up along his neck, brushing along his jawline before settling curled around the side of his helm.

“But I want to anyway,” Rewind admitted, and Minimus ached.

“So do I.”

Rewind sent another pulse along their bond and Minimus readily pulsed in return.

_Please_.

Rewind shifted down Minimus’s frame and between his thighs as if he had always belonged there, and any doubt that they should be doing this – that Minimus should be doing this – melted as Rewind pressed inside.

(When Minimus left this manor, his life as Minimus would be left with it.)

Rewind’s servos scalded the plating where he touched and held Minimus, at once exploring and claiming.

(Did he not deserve to ring some small amount of selfishness from that miserable life before losing it?)

Minimus’s servo over his mouth couldn’t muffle his labored ventilations or gasping whimpers, especially as they came quicker and more readily with repetitions of “Rewind” escaping him in between.

(Couldn’t he enjoy having a conjunx before he lost him?)

Rewind nuzzled against Minimus’s neck as they both laid wrapped up in each other, recovering from their joining, and Minimus felt the sparking kisses he laid there.

(Couldn’t he find peace in the knowledge that Minimus Ambus would be laid to rest next to what remained of his brother in their conjunx’s spark?)


	4. Epilogue

“Will you come back?” Rewind asked when Minimus prepared to leave the next morning. There was a lot left to be done to make sure their bonding was officially recognized, and that Rewind would have control of their estate in his absence.

(At least until he had been gone long enough to be declared dead. Minimus didn’t like to think the war would last that much longer, but he knew it was hopeless to believe otherwise.)

(Assuming he lived long enough to see his death legally declared.)

“At worst, I’ll be back when their offices close for the day—”

“That’s not what I mean.”

(Two mechs forcibly intertwined by fate long enough as to become a matching pair.)

“No, I don’t think I will.”

* * *

They had gone those first two days insisting it had been a one-time encounter. But when Minimus had come home with the news that they were officially conjunxed, they fell into each other again.

And again.

And again.

Every time, Minimus reminded Rewind he was leaving.

And every time, Rewind still had him.

* * *

“Just reading the descriptions of the found frames isn’t enough!” Rewind argued as he ripped the datapad from Minimus’s servo. A datapad full of illegitimately obtained autopsy photos of hundreds of grey corpses. “I might miss him if I just read those, but I know I’ll recognize him if I see him!”

(And who was Minimus to judge. He was days away from finding a new life in a dead mech’s frame.)

“Then don’t get caught. I can’t help you once I’m gone.”

It didn’t help. Rewind only got more upset and stormed out, cradling the datapad to his chest.

(Minimus knew it was wrong, but a small part of him hoped Rewind would look for his corpse too.)

* * *

“Stay,” Rewind said.

( _Stay._ )

But Minimus’s ship had arrived and he would be getting on it.

(There was no use for Minimus Ambus anymore. With all the paperwork finished, Rewind would be just as well off without him as with.)

Rewind’s servos grasped his wrists.

“At least give me a way to contact you.”

“Rewind—”

“Encrypt it, whatever you need to do, but I need to be able to contact you.”

“ _Rewind—_ ”

“I just need to know that you’re alive out here. I can’t handle not knowing whether or not you’re alive too!”

Minimus felt the echo of Rewind’s pain in his own spark and was helpless against it.

“Just that. If you promise to only message when you need to check I’m still alive, then fine. But nothing else.”

“I promise.”

* * *

Even with the atmosphere between them, Minimus could still feel their bond, fresh and powerful, tugging at him.

* * *

**are you alive?**

It had only been a year, but he was surprised to be asked when still he felt Rewind in their bond as strongly as the night they had fallen into bed together.

**Yes.**

* * *

**are you alive?**

**Yes.**

* * *

**minimus?**

Ultra Magnus hadn’t heard that name in decades and his spark jolted deep in his chest.

**are you alive?**

**Yes.**

* * *

**i met a mech**

Ultra Magnus wasn’t going to answer it. It was outside the scope of their arrangement. It wasn’t his business what Rewind did, not anymore.

**i love him and he loves me, and i think he’s going to ask me to be his conjunx. i'm going to say yes. so, you might feel it**

A day passed and Ultra Magnus ex-vented tiredly before opening the message.

(He had laid awake all night, worried he would feel the moment when Rewind bonded with someone else.)

(Worried that he _wouldn’t_ feel it.)

**are you alive?**

**Yes.**

A week later, when Ultra Magnus was in pieces on the battlefield, unsure if he would survive or if another would take up his mantle, leaving him forgotten, he opened the connection again.

**I hope he makes you happy, Rewind.**

* * *

**are you on this planet?**

Ultra Magnus had done everything in his power to ignore the dull thud that had taken up in his spark as their bond reawakened with their proximity. The last thing he needed was to know Rewind felt it as well.

**minimus? tell me if you’re here**

**minimus?**

**minimus?**

**i know you’re here**

It went on for months, but Ultra Magnus remained firm.

However, he did make sure to limit how often he and Blaster shared a shift, even if it was nice to see Rewind, whole and alive and taken care of.

* * *

**did you survive the war?**

**I did.**

**so i’ll see you again?**

Ultra Magnus wasn’t sure he knew how to be Minimus Ambus anymore, or if he even wanted to go back. He had survived the war, something the Ultra Magnuses before him hadn’t. Didn’t he deserve then to continue to live this life he had created? Hadn’t he earned being Ultra Magnus?

He _liked_ being Ultra Magnus.

(What if Rewind wanted to end their bond now that he was safe? Now that there was nothing gained from their bond of convenience?)

Days turned to weeks as Ultra Magnus struggled to decide what to do with the war ended.

And then Rodimus came to him, and he was useful again.

(Ultra Magnus was useful.)

**No.**

* * *

**you're on this ship**

**i know you’re on this ship**

**did you get a frame remodel? change your name?**

**i know everyone on this ship, so one of them has to be you**

**you’re so close**

**minimus**

**minimus**

**minimus**

Ultra Magnus was grateful that his spark was two layers deep, allowing him to keep a straight face no matter how badly it ached.

* * *

Ultra Magnus hadn’t meant to slip. He hadn’t. Discipline was purely a part of his job, and the better he did keeping a professional façade, the easier it would be to get Rewind off his trail.

But he looked down at the data discs, full to bursting with death, and his spark _ached_.

Ached so horribly that, no matter how their bond had cooled, this close he was sure Rewind felt something.

The flicker of Rewind’s visor as he looked up from his lap was proof enough.

“No way… Minimus? Is that _you_?”

Ultra Magnus suppressed a shudder, but only just barely.

Instead of answering, he asked, “You’re still looking for him?” and hated how his voice caught.

Rewind’s chair clattered to the floor behind him as, somehow, Ultra Magnus found Rewind’s arms flung around what little of his neck and shoulders he could reach around, squeezing him as tightly as his small frame could.

(And Minimus remembered that they would be of size without his armors.)

Rewind was yelling, that much Ultra Magnus knew. But the words washed over him as all he could think about was how Rewind’s frame rattled and heaved with angry sobs.

And, as Ultra Magnus used one of his overlarge arms to take Rewind’s weight and cradle him, Rewind pulled back enough to look at him, to see him.

To see Minimus despite his armor.

And for the first time in his life, he wanted to be Minimus.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A kiss from me to you for reading this fic <3


End file.
